Page 37 of Murder on the Upper East Side

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, feeling foolish.

Close. I think it’s a pear tart.

Better. Bon appetit.

She shook off the itchy feeling at the nape of her neck and searched the long, banquet-style tables for her name card, finally locating it at a table near the hearth. She’d been seated next to Madison, but there was still no sign of the friend who had brought her here tonight. She stood at her seat, hands resting on the chair back. In front of her, the place setting was all antique silver and porcelain. In the centre of the linen-draped table was a large brass candelabra surrounded by a winter arrangement of pinecones, dried lavender and black calla lilies. All around her, the precisely one hundred guests of the DuPonts and Fairfaxes were taking their seats.

Hannah’s gaze drifted across the room, to a corner occupied by a mighty fir. It stretched nearly to the very high ceiling, its branches adorned only by white beeswax tapers. Standing before it was Madison DuPont and a slightly older boy with thick, dark hair and a physique made trim by hundreds of hours of polo, squash and rowing. He looked college-age, and judging by his close resemblance to the bride, she guessed he was a younger brother, or possibly a cousin. He reached down to tuck a lock of Madison’s long, red hair behind a delicate ear. Then she slipped her hand into his, and the two vanished down a dim, sconce-lit hall beside the fir tree.

Hannah’s eyes widened. Maybe Madison hadn’t been ditching her as part of some exhausting power play against Elle. Maybe Madison had a boyfriend. Suddenly, Alex appeared beside her, half-empty champagne flute in hand.

‘Who was that, with your sister?’

Alex drained the rest of his glass in one long gulp. ‘That was Bradley Fairfax. Mary’s half-brother. He’s a student at Oxford. Or Cambridge. One of the two.’

‘And he and Madison are…’

He shrugged. ‘Who cares. Want to go outside and smoke a joint?’

Hannah glanced down the now-empty hall. Madison had abandoned her, and Ami wasn’t here. She didn’t have to set an example.

‘Definitely.’

13Saturday, 13 June 2026

12:02am

The second Hannah’s Lenox Martini was gone, another appeared before her. Alongside it was a piping hot plate of seared halibut. The fish sat atop a verdant bed of English pea purée and had been finished with a champagne beurre blanc – still a Lenox Club house favourite. She raised the martini glass to her lips and took a sip. Her head felt clear. She’d sworn to cut herself off after two drinks, but that had been before the night extended into tomorrow morning. As long as she paced herself, and kept eating, she’d be fine.

Writing required strong coffee and ideally a dish of Marcona almonds, slightly warmed, a preference she was loathe to admit she’d developed at the DuPonts’ home back in her Prescott days. But while she would never confess as much to her boss, sometimes a drink or two helped her get her bearings during the early stages of a difficult story, opening her to angles she might otherwise dismiss.

Tackling the investigation was, in many ways, similar to researching a story. The suspect list was long and the relationships difficult to unravel, especially with so few of her former classmates eager to talk. She’d need to make the most of Theo’s presence at her table until he changed his mind or someone else crashed their party of two. She took another sip of her drink.

‘That was fast.’

Hannah turned to Theo, who was enjoying his second – or was it his third? – martini.

She raised her fork. ‘What was?’

He nodded in the direction of the stairwell, where Gemma Phipps, who had gone up to speak to the detectives following the conclusion of Edward’s interview, was now stepping back into the lounge and making her way over to the library, which had mostly emptied out during the belated dinner service.

Hannah glanced down at the white linen, in search of her phone, before remembering the black velvet bag. She peered through the arch and looked instead to the antique black-and-white clock above the bar. Gemma had been upstairs for under fifteen minutes, making her interview the shortest of the night so far. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth. Gemma had every reason to want Madison dead, and very little other reason to be here tonight – but maybe the detectives knew something she did not. Or perhaps Gemma had been able to present them with an ironclad alibi.

‘Very fast,’ she acknowledged to Theo. Carefully, she speared a bite of halibut and raised it to her lips.

‘She wasn’t invited, you know. Bash mentioned it earlier, at the bar. Tonight’s invitations went out to all Prescott Academy alumni. It’s a long list, but Gemma wasn’t on it.’

‘Because she didn’t graduate.’

‘Right.’ Theo knocked back the rest of his martini and glanced around for a server.

Hannah’s pulse picked up. ‘So how did she get in?’

‘Apparently she bought a ticket online, like the rest of us. Elle said something about a private link, but the site wasn’t secure? I have no idea what that means exactly, but you know Elle will be placing a call to the school when all this is said and done.’

Hannah swallowed. If Gemma had killed Madison – if she’d gained access to the 100 Year Anniversary Gala because of some technical oversight – heads at Prescott would roll.

Gemma’s brief time with the detectives did give her pause, but she remained a prime suspect in Hannah’s eyes. So, of course, did Elle Harrington, the only other person to warrant an immediate star beside their name on her suspect list.